Kings and Masters
by Truthful nomad
Summary: Post BofF, Fili and Kili are left fighting for their lives and Thorin may not get the chance to reconcile with his nephews after harsh words said. Erebor isn't in any shape to care for wounded, nor are the ruins of Lake-town- safe for one place. The mansion of the greedy Lake-town master has survived Smaug's assault. Thorin is at the mercy of a man who holds mysteries of his own.
1. Chapter 1

**First off,** I **own nothing, of course.** I **had originally started this story back in November, but after seeing the movie,** I **went back and made some changes so that it reflects what happened, with some obvious changes which you'll see when you read it. Once again, as with all my fics, this story is in no way cannon. If you are against that kind of thing, consider this your warning. Also, while we are on that subject, I should point out that I'm not a fan of Kili and Tauriel as a couple. I like Tauriel, but I prefer her with Legolas, so all my fics will relect that.**

**Warning: Major spoilers from the movie! The Durin's survive but Fili and Kili are seriously wounded and Thorin must get them help. Since Erebor is in no condition to handle casualties and neither is Dale or Lake-town, Oin had set up** a **triage center in** a **lakeside mansion that belongs to the Lake-town master (who in this scenario, managed to survive Smaug's assault). But as the Durins recover in this mansion, they discover that the Lake-town master has some mysteries of his own.**

Kili's heart stood still when he saw his brother's broken body before him. A thousand thoughts went through his mind. His brother, his Fili has just been taken from him. The orcs had just robbed him of his very soul. At that moment, Kili too had ceased to live.

He had heard the commotion from where he had been hiding, was down below the fortress at Ravenhill. Thorin had sent them to the fortress to scout for the enemy, a task normally assigned to them and one that they did well. He and his brother had separated and now he was berating himself for letting it happen. He had gone below and Fili had gone above. He was exploring the area around him when he heard his uncle's cry from above and across the deep ravine. The one word out of Thorin's mouth froze Kili in his tracks. "Fili!" in that moment, Kili's whole world turned on end. He ran to the stone opening and tried to crane his head up to see what was above him. But he couldn't. He could hear though. The shuffling of metal and the pounding of feet as the orcs stood at the top of the complex and grinned at Thorin and Dwalin who stood on the plateau, too far away to do anything but watch.

Despite the distance, Thorin tried to get to his nephew. He paced back and forth at the ledge like a caged bull. His eyes were wide with terror as he fixated on his eldest nephew who dangled helplessly in the pale orc's cruel grip. He growled in desperation and in agony, knowing that Azog was about to rob him of his heir.

"Run, Thorin!" Fili choked out, his body already hurting from the abuse he had suffered upon capture. He had tried to fight, but was surrounded and overpowered. He was going to die, he knew this. He didn't see Azog pull out his sword but he saw Thorin scream his name. He knew what was coming before he felt it. He locked eyes with his uncle, one last time.

Azog drove the sword into the side of the blonde dwarf and Fili cried out in pain. His body erupted in pain and his knees buckled. He was being held up completely by the pale orc.

Fili was thrown from the ledge and landed on his back just out of reach of his brother. Kili felt tears well up in his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to run to his fallen brother laying right in front of him. But they were still up there and they'd see him if he came out of where he was hiding. They'd catch him and kill him just as they had done to Fili. Kili wasn't too afraid of that possibility. He was dead inside now anyway. But there was something he needed to first. He had to survive long enough to take revenge for his brother. They had taken his Fili from him, and now Kili would take their lives. All of them, as many as he could catch. Then, and only then, could he join his brother.

With a mighty war cry worthy of a son of Durin, Kili charged up the ramparts towards the orcs above. The orcs reacted to him immediately and charged to meet him. He wasted the first few of them as soon as they reached him, slicing one in half and beheading the other. He let his raw emotions drive him. He growled and roared as he ran up onto the upper level of the complex. With every kill, he worked himself into a fighting frenzy spurred on by hate, anger, and the need for revenge.

Once at the top, Kili caught sight of Thorin and Dwalin on the plateau a distance away. His uncle was trying to get to him, he knew. But he was being prevented from getting to the complex by the pale orc. Kili gasped when he saw Azog charge Thorin and the two engage in a desperate hand to hand combat. But he had his own battle. He had to trust that Thorin would be victorious.

Kili dropped all the orcs that came to him. After awhile, they stopped coming. He panted, adrenaline surging through his body. When he whirled around, looking for more orcs to fell, he came face to face with Bolg, son of Azog. The large gangly orc approached menacingly, sword at the ready. Kili took a breath and approached, his own sword ready. The two circled one another, locking gazes, feeling a cold mutual hatred for one another.

The grotesque orc attacked first. He charged Kili, but the dwarf swiftly dodged out of the way and landed an attack of his own. He swung his sword but Bolg turned and blocked with his own. He grabbed the little dwarf and flung him hard into the wall of the complex. Kili grunted, the wind knocked out of him from the impact, but he was on his feet before Bolg could reach him, ready to continue the fight.

This carried on for awhile; block, perry, dodge, swipe. Kili found himself getting tired after awhile. The massive orc was very strong and large and a challenge for a small dwarf. Wounds and bruises appeared all over his body as Bolg threw him and kicked him with every opening he got.

But Kili wasn't finished quite yet. Just as his uncle had faced down the pale orc in battle long ago, and just as he was doing so again at this very moment, Kili was holding his own. He was proving his might in battle. He would not be an easy kill for this orc.

It came down to the last assault. The orc was surprisingly cut up, Kili had landed a hit on his giant arm and across his face. Black blood spilled into his eye as he turned on the dwarf and prepared for a kill.

Kili was in much worse shape. He limped, he could hardly stay upright. He felt the intense agony of cracked ribs and he tasted blood in his mouth. But he was still standing. As the orc charged him, Kili braced himself. He watched as the orc barreled towards him at lightning speeds. Then, just as Bolg raised his sword to finish the dwarf off, Kili dodged out of the way. The next move was his. He thought about his brother, his uncle, and everything this orc had done to him and his family. He swung his sword with every inch of strength he had, so hard that when his blade impacted with Bolg's arm, he sliced it clean off, and his own arm sprained from the sheer force.

Kili winced as he watched with satisfaction as Bolg roared in agony and surprise. Black blood spurted from the stump that was now what was left of his right arm. Kili moved back and watched as the orc knelt on the ground, cradling his injury. The dwarf gripped his sword, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm. He moved in for the killing blow. As he approached, the orc glared up at him.

"This is for my brother, Orc Filth," Kili growled, his voice low and dangerous, "Imrid amrad ursul!" Kili raised his sword above his head, ready to bring it down on Bolg's massive head... but as he did so, Bolg suddenly produced a dagger from his belt and darted forward, burying the blade deep into Kili's stomach.

Kili gasped as pain spread through him. He glanced down at the dagger now stuck in his gut. He looked forward and met Bolg's gaze. Mutual hatred burned in both expressions. Bolg still had his remaining hand on the hilt of the knife. Kili mustered up the strength and as Bolg yanked the dagger out of Kili's body, the dwarf swung his sword one last time and impaled it in the orc's face.

Bolg and Kili both collapsed backwards. When Kili weakly rolled onto his side, he felt satisfied when he saw the lifeless body of Bolg, son of Azog laying before him.

Blood flowed from the gaping wound in Kili's stomach. He gripped the wound as he struggled up to his knees. He was dying. He knew this. He could feel the life draining from him just as his blood stained the frozen stone below him. But he couldn't go now. Not here. He rolled onto his knees and hands and began to drag himself forward, heading back down the way he had come.

Kili crawled down below the complex. He moved slowly, every inch was agony. The effort took every bit of strength he had. He tasted blood in his mouth. But finally, he made it back to his brother. Fili lay where he had fallen in the snow. His body was cold, as cold as death. Kili crawled to him and lay his head on his brother's chest. Now, he could go, he thought. Now that he was with his brother. He lay there, listening to the world around him. He waited for the darkness to descend. He thought of Thorin. He wished he could see his uncle one last time, but he had finished what he set out to do and now he could join Fili.

As Kili finally gave into the darkness, he was unaware of the very faint thump underneath him. The soft, very weak, but steady beating of Fili's heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin fought Azog with everything he had. For everything this vile orc had done to him and his family, for everything it had planned to do, Thorin swung his sword for everything he had suffered. The pale orc had killed his grandfather in front of him long ago, and now, he had robbed Thorin of his heir, his eldest nephew.

The massive orc's strength was overpowering as Thorin met his blade with his own. The two clashed for a moment and each impact drove Thorin backwards before he finally toppled over backwards, landing hard on the icy stone. Azog moved to bring his sword down on Thorin but the dwarf rolled out of the way just in time. Azog struck again and Thorin rolled again. Back and forth as the orc tried to impale the dwarf, and the dwarf remained one step away from death. Finally, Thorin kicked out, throwing his whole weight against the back of Azog's knee. The orc lost his balance and Thorin scrambled to his feet before Azog crashed down on top of him.

Thorin charged the orc and landed a blow, digging his sword deep into the flesh of Azog's thigh. Then, the orc grabbed him by the arm, yanking the blade out and roaring in pain as he stood up, the dwarf now dangling from his grasp. Thorin twirled around, Azog's vise like grip on his arm causing him to grunt in discomfort as he tried to swing at the orc with his sword while he dangled. He suddenly felt white hot pain in his side as Azog dug his clawed hook hand deep into the dwarf's body. Thorin gasped in pain as his blood mixed with Azog's blood on the ground beneath them.

Azog withdrew his hook and threw the dwarf against the massive stone pillars. Thorin groaned in pain as his back absorbed much of the impact. He crumpled into a heap as the orc advanced towards him. The pale orc picked up his sword and charged Thorin, ready to run him through and end him.

As the orc ran at him full speed, Thorin pulled his own sword out and got to his feet. The two impaled each other simultaneously on one another's sword. Thorin felt the blade enter his torso just under his ribcage while his own blade struck Azog right through his massive chest. The pale orc let out a defeated roar and slid off Thorin's sword, toppling over backwards, laying lifeless at the dwarf king's feet.

Thorin gave a sigh of relief. The pale orc was finally defeated. He gasped out a few times as he pulled Azog's blade out of his body. He staggered away, pain slowly replacing adrenaline now that the fight was over. The wounds in his torso both poured with blood and his back screamed in agony. He left a trail of blood as he staggered along, holding his wound.

"KILI!" he cried at the top of his lungs as he slowly lurched towards the complex where his nephews had been. The pain of Fili's death stung him even more now that the fight was over and he desperately needed to see that Kili had survived this.

"Thorin..." Thorin whirled at the sound of his own name and found Dwalin and Bilbo approaching him from the direction he was headed. Dwalin was quickly at his king's side, hurrying to help him walk.

"My sister-son... My Kili..." Thorin muttered as he leaned on Dwalin, eyes searching desperately for any sign of his youngest, and now, only nephew.

"They're over here," Bilbo said, a grim look on his face, "This way." With Dwalin's help, Thorin followed the hobbit to the complex and down into the ravine where when he rounded the corner, he gasped in despair.

Fili lay where he had been thrown, unmoving. And draped across him was Kili, his head resting on his brother's chest. Both appeared lifeless and blood stained the snow around them. "No... no..." Thorin pulled away from Dwalin and fell to his knees, raw emotion enveloping him at the sight. He crawled the distance to his fallen sister-sons.

The king didn't hide his tears that flowed from his face and he choked a few sobs as he gently rolled Kili off of his brother and into his arms. He then pulled Fili into his arms as well. Their bodies were cold as he cradled them tightly in his arms. His strength left him just as his own blood and tears did and he slumped backwards against a pillar, buried his face in the mess of blonde and brown hair and wept.

As Dwalin looked on with sympathy, it was Bilbo who refused to accept this. He knelt in front of the three durins and studied Fili and Kili closely. His brow furrowed as he glanced over the stab wounds in Kili's stomach and in Fili's side, both leaked with blood though it was beginning to dry. Blood dripped from both of their mouths. They both appeared to have passed on from this life, but only the hobbit's sharp eyes saw the ever so slight twitch of Fili's hand and only the hobbit heard the very faint whimper from Kili.

Bilbo's breath hitched in hope as he reached forward and pressed his finger to Fili's neck. The blonde dwarf's body trembled with the movements of his uncle's body as Thorin continued to weep, oblivious of the world around him. At first Bilbo felt nothing and he began to think that what he had seen was only his imagination. But then, he felt the very faint pulse, almost too faint to be felt. His eyes went wide in surprise, "He's alive!" he shouted loudly, "He's alive!"

Thorin glanced up at him, his face wet with tears. He blinked, as if he hadn't quite registered what the hobbit said. Dwalin hurried over to verify what Bilbo had said, feeling for a pulse himself, "It's true..." he said incredulously, "Fili's alive. But barely, Lad. Let's lay him down and get him warm." Thorin said nothing, only gasped in surprise and hope as he relinquished hold of his oldest nephew as Dwalin pulled Fili gently from his grasp and laid the young dwarf out on the snowy ground in front of his uncle. Bilbo tore off a piece of his jerkin and dabbed at Fili's stab wound while Dwalin pulled off his own cloak and draped it over him.

Bilbo hurried back to Thorin and turned his attention to Kili, hoping against hope as he pressed his finger to Kili's neck as the youth lay in his uncle's arms. Kili's pulse was slightly stronger than his brothers, they were both still in the land of the living. Bilbo gave Thorin a reassuring smile, "You haven't lost them," he said, though he knew that Fili and Kili's injuries were severe and their newly found hope could easily return to despair and grief.

"Keep him warm too," Bilbo said, taking his own jerkin off and draping it over Kili. He noted that Thorin had begun to turn pale himself, he noted the blood seeping through his armor. Thorin was unconcerned, ignoring his own wounds, as he only had eyes for his sister-sons. But his body was beginning to weaken and in this freezing weather, they were all in danger. Bilbo glanced to Dwalin. It was up to the two of them to care for the king and his princes.

"Can we carry them?" Bilbo asked, glancing around them. He knew full well that he didn't have the strength to carry a full grown dwarf. Dwalin shook his head, "The trip to Erebor would take too long," he said, "They'd never make the journey."

Bilbo tried to think. He refused to let go of this newfound hope, but as evening began to descend and the temperature dropped even further, he worried they were only delaying the inevitable. He shivered a bit and then, his sharp ears picked up on the best noise he could have heard. "Eagles!" he gasped. He glanced to Dwalin who was diligently caring for Fili, then turned to Thorin and gasped. The king's strength had finally given out and his grip on Kili loosened as he succombed to darkness. The last thing Thorin heard before passing out was the cries of eagles on the wind...


End file.
